(from the chronicles of clovis)


"we might do something on the lines of greek tragedy," said clovis, after due reflection; "the return of agamemnon, for instance."

the baroness frowned. "it sounds rather reminiscent of an election result, doesn't it?"

"it wasn't that sort of return," explained clovis; "it was a home coming."

"i thought you said it was a tragedy."

"well, it was. he was killed in his bathroom, you know."

"oh, now i know the story, of course. do you want me to take the part of charlotte corday?"

"that's a different story and a different century," said clovis "the dramatic unities forbid one to lay a scene in more than one century at a time."

"i suppose you want to be aga- whatever his name was?"

"dear no. agamemnon was the father of grown-up children, and probably wore a beard and looked prematurely aged. i shall be his charioteer or bath-attendant, or something decorative of that kind. we must do everything in the sumurun manner, you know."

"i don't know," said the baroness; "at least i shall know better if you would explain what exactly you mean by the sumurun manner."

clovis obliged: "weird music, exotic skippings and flying leaps, and lots of drapery and undrapery. particularly undrapery."

"the county won't stand anything very greek."

" you can get over any objection by calling it hygiene, or limb-culture, or something of that sort. after all, everyone exposes their insides to the public gaze and sympathy nowadays, so why not one's outside?"

"my dear boy, i can ask the county to a greek play, or to a costume play, but to a greek costume play, never."